


When the Desert Met the Sea

by cross



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Splash Free, Arranged Marriage, Casual Sex, Friends to Lovers, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cross/pseuds/cross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka Nanase, prince of the small, peaceful country of Alhariyah, cannot bear the thought of marrying a near-stranger at his parents' behest, and dreads the thought of becoming king. He leaves his bride at the altar, renounces his birthright, and takes off on camelback with little more than a pocketful of silver and his handmaid, Nagisa.</p><p>Rin Matsuoka, prince of the seaside kingdom of Alyaban, lives for indulgence, preferring to spend his days swimming, drinking wine, and smoking hookah. But his mother is quick to remind him that he must wed before his twenty-first birthday if he is to inherit his late father's throne. And the idea of arrangement makes Rin want to hurl.</p><p>When Prince Haruka arrives in Alyaban, searching for his old friend Makoto, he tries to keep a low profile—an effort rendered futile when Prince Rin discovers him taking a dip in the palace spring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The rating and the tags are all for later chapters. Normally, I wouldn't want to spoil anything, but I don't want anyone surprised by a pairing they might not want to read! The focus here will be RinHaru endgame; however, a mixed bag will accompany it.

>   
>  _Haru,_
> 
> _I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. The courier only comes to the capital once a month and I missed him last time, with all of the hectic planning for Her Majesty’s birthday feast and then another for the princess’s engagement. Have I ever told you how much these royals love feasts? I guess you would know better than I would, though._
> 
> _But you know, I used to find them nostalgic. They reminded me of your parents’ parties, when we would get in trouble for eating all of the pomegranate tarts and sneaking some of the wine, and staying up past midnight swimming in the pond. But lately, I’m just exhausted. The queen is pressuring the prince to marry and I know he doesn’t want to. He’s getting more irritable and difficult to handle by the day._
> 
> _Even my patience has its limits, Haru!!!_
> 
> _I told the prince about your engagement and the wedding plans. I was hoping he would take them to heart, but he just rolled his eyes and went back to bed for the rest of the afternoon. I’m running out of soothing words to offer him…_
> 
> _Hopefully things are still well for you in the New Year. I wish I could be there for the wedding, but maybe someday a diplomatic visit will be in order. I miss you!_
> 
> _—Makoto_  
> 

* * *

> _Makoto,_
> 
> _Everything is fine here. Mom and Dad have been busy planning the wedding so I don’t get much time to myself, but I guess that’s par for the course. At least no one expects me to decide what color the tablecloths should be._
> 
> _Maybe your prince should just skip the whole marriage thing. I’ve never really understood the point of sticking two perfect strangers together just for the convenience of everyone else. But I guess he doesn’t have a choice in it either, if he actually wants to be king._
> 
> _I haven’t forgotten the sight of the ocean. I still dream about it almost every night. Someday I’ll have time to come visit Alyaban. I want to see it again._
> 
> _—Haruka_

Makoto and Haruka had been writing letters across borders for years, even though Haruka was not much of a writer, and sometimes he lost track of time and forgot to write back for a month or two, or thought that it was too hot to bother making the walk from the palace to the couriers’ tent in the merchants’ district. And as the son of the king, he was aware it would take only a snap of his fingers to have someone take it for him _and_ thank His Highness for the opportunity, but the very thought made his skin crawl.

He had come to expect a letter from Makoto about a month after sending his own, and they came like clockwork, one scroll in a bundle of many scrolls addressed to members of the royal family, and one of few that was actually read. This time, Makoto’s scroll had come with a package, wrapped with a fine, intricately-sewn silk linen in shades of blue, with surrealist aquatic patterns that could only be the signature work of Alyabani weavers.

Nagisa unraveled the scroll on the marble steps, pinning it down with his hands and sprawling out next to Haruka, who was laid out on his back, the sun warming him from head to toe as he watched the clouds go by. With a loud clear of the throat he began to read aloud.

“Dear Haru-chan.”

Haruka’s sleepy gaze at the vernal sky hardened into a deadpan glare. “If you’re going to read it out loud, then at least read it the way that it was written.”

Under no circumstances would Makoto have called him “Haru-chan,” unless he was pressing Haruka’s buttons, and he was in no mood for pressed buttons in his few moments of afternoon peace amidst the wedding fever that had consumed his family, the courtiers, and every commoner he had encountered since the engagement was announced. (“Congratulations, Your Highness!” “We can’t wait for the wedding, Prince Haruka!” “You have the most beautiful bride, sir, she’s a perfect fit for your queen!”)

“But it’s weird not calling you Haru-chan!” Nagisa pouted and pressed his toes into Haruka’s shoulder, a rough and playful nudge to loosen him up. “Even the ministers have gotten used to it now. You’re Haru-chan, and I know Mako-chan would agree.”

A tiny smile crossed Haruka’s lips as he remembered how the cabinet would grill Nagisa for addressing his prince with such casual familiarity, despite Haruka’s staunch distaste for royal styles. He rolled over on his side, turning his back on his friend to face the palace gardens and the glory of their green leaves returning to the shrubs, orchids creeping up the fences, and the buds of kumquats appearing on the fruit trees. The only person who called him “Haru-chan” was Nagisa, and Haruka wanted to keep it that way.

“Fine, fine,” Nagisa said, heaving a sigh of defeat. And he began the letter again:

>   
>  _Haru,_
> 
> _By the time you get this letter, it will be springtime! I hope the weather over there is warm enough for you to swim again. And when summer hits, you’ll be married! Are you getting nervous?_
> 
> _The prince’s nineteenth birthday came and went. Her Majesty gifted him his very own tiger cub. I have to say I’m not fond of it hanging out in the parlor with us, even if it is cute. That cute baby is going to grow up into a big cat with big teeth! Prince Rin said he was going to feed his new servant to the tiger when it’s fully grown. Nitori-kun didn’t seem to think that was a funny joke. (It was a joke, right…?!)_
> 
> _With this letter I’ve included a wedding gift for you and your bride. I admit that finding a gift for a prince is always a challenge, but newlyweds can never have too many bamboo steamers, and what a tragedy it would be if she never got to taste those awesome mackerel dumplings you make._
> 
> _Congratulations, Haru! Best wishes for you and your wedding._

“From Makoto,” he finished, and he neatly rolled the scroll into its original shape, tying it with the ribbon of magenta silk, characteristic of correspondences from their neighbors in Alyaban. “Do you want to open the present too, Haru-chan?”

Haruka was glad that Nagisa couldn’t see the way his eyes had darkened, their watery glow dimmed to a morose and lifeless blue, a match for his deep frown pointed at the gardens.

“No,” he said dully. “We already know what it is, so there’s no point.”

* * *

Makoto trekked across the city to the post office every week, waiting for a response, but the weeks passed, and no letter came, no thank you note, no anything. One month, he knew, was the normal turnaround time. When month two came and went, he chalked it up to wedding business. And with month three, Makoto reassured himself that Haruka was adjusting to life with his wife, but by month four, he began to wonder if his letter had even been received.

Or, Makoto thought, maybe he had finally been left behind on the path of Haru’s life. Six years had passed since Makoto left Alhariyah, and with a new wife and an upcoming coronation, it was natural that Haru would move on from a friend who moved away and swore fealty to a new sovereign. Makoto may not have had much choice in that matter, but he was able to stare the truth in its ugly face without flinching, and sometimes he could not quash that cruel voice in the back of his head that told him Haru had forgotten him.

Two months after Haru’s wedding date, the news broke in the capital.

“The Alhariyan heir abdicated the throne and disappeared!” shouted a young scribe, brandishing the morning papers at passersby. “He’s vanished! Poof! Hasn’t been seen alive for weeks now!”

Makoto’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach and his blood ran cold. He knew in his bones that Haru was no carcass in the desert or worse, but where was he, then? Was he safe? Was he alone? Had the wedding happened or not?

“Hey, do you know anything else?” he cried, kneeling next to the boy. “Where did you hear all of that?”

“Just heard it from a couple of traders, my lord! That’s all they had to tell me, even when I offered them two silver coins for details.”

On any other day, Makoto would have insisted that he drop the "my lord" nonsense and stayed to chat with him; he felt it was important for the nobility to rub noses with the common people as much as possible, lest they lose touch with reality. But the shock was all-consuming, and yet not so: Makoto had taken Haru's lack of enthusiasm in his letters for being, well, _Haru_ —there was little that thrilled the guy other than water, and Makoto could not recall any instance of Haru expressing interest in women, much less their usual accompaniments: dating, marriage, sex, fatherhood. Nor did he ever voice doubts of the fact that someday he would be expected to make every single one of those things a part of his life, and probably with a near stranger, by royal precedent.

Of course, Makoto thought crudely, he had also been torn away from Haru as puberty struck them both. He winced at the thought—those were painful, messy, pimply years—but it was the truth, and he had to admit to himself, no matter how much it hurt, that just because Haru had never shared such interests with _him_ did not necessarily indicate a complete lack.

Plus, he couldn't think of anything more awkward than Haru writing him letters about pretty girls and waking up hard and every other awful part of becoming an adult. Makoto wouldn't have known how to respond, anyway. Especially if girls were the topic at hand. So, if Makoto were being honest with himself, he could think of a million reasons why Haru would renounce the throne, but each of them was as likely as the last and none of them brought him any closer to the truth.

No news of Alhariyah followed in the days after. Neither hide nor hair of Haruka Nanase, former heir to the throne of Alhariyah, was reported within the Alyabani borders. When Makoto told Prince Rin of his old friend’s disappearance, the prince looked off to the east and said with a shrug, “Maybe he got cold feet.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the initial support. I can't make any promises on any degree of regularity with updates, as I am a full-time student and worker, but right now I'm aiming for weekly-ish. I hope everyone enjoys the newest installment!

Makoto had little time to fret about the extraordinary case of the vanished Haruka Nanase, with his own court entangled in ceaseless drama. When he returned to the palace the next day after a morning survey of the marketplace, there were shrill shrieks echoing from within the parlor, accompanied by slams of doors rattling the china cabinets and the startled squawks of the royal family’s beloved budgies, flitting about their handwrought gilded cage, leaping from ladder to swing to branch. They were sounds that Makoto had come to know well over the past few months: the fury of a tearful princess. He braced himself as he entered, shielding his skull with his arm in fear of unidentified flying objects.

“I won’t do it, I won’t do it!” Gou shouted, clenching her fists and turning her back on her mother. “I told you I don’t want to and you don’t even care!”

Rin was sprawled out on his velvet upholstered triclinium, a thick book’s pages spread across his face. He had given up on reading amidst all the noise, and settled for hiding behind it instead. His new servant, a high-strung page called Aiichirou Nitori, was standing at his side, clutching his head and wailing for Gou to calm down.

“Princess, please, I know you’re upset, but His Highness has a headache, and—”

“Shut up, Nitori,” Rin snapped, his voice muffled beneath the book. “Just let her throw her tantrum.” And though no one but Nitori could hear him anyway, he added under his breath: “Maybe someday Mom’ll actually listen.”

“Gou, we’ve been over this.” The queen’s voice was steady and calm, yet a trained ear could detect her patience wearing thin. “When you marry him, it will end a hundred years of quarreling, and we can open the trade routes with the Yuan Empire again. Sweetheart, I know you’re too young to remember, but thirty years ago we were still getting mangoes! _Mangoes!_ ”

“So you’re _selling_ me to some gross old man for fruits?”

Her mother sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ve been over that too. You’re thinking of the emperor’s father. Remember, he stepped down due to poor health and let his son take over? His son is only a few years older than you, and I’m sure he’s very handsome, and kind. Look at how many presents he’s sent you!”

“But you don’t _know_ that.” Tears had dried in lines on Gou’s cheeks, and her veiled handmaiden stood off to the side, fretting, with handkerchief at the ready. “You don’t know anything about him, and he doesn’t know me. I don’t want to meet him. He can send me as many _stupid gifts_ as he wants—” She pointed at a _go_ board set up on the tea table, lovingly crafted of granite with game pieces of gold and jade. “—but it won’t change my mind.”

And with that, Gou shot a look at her handmaiden and ran out of the parlor in the direction of her bedchambers. The handmaiden fidgeted, offered the queen an apologetic curtsy, and scurried after Gou, her sandy brown hair falling loose from its messy bun as she rushed down the hall.

The queen stood silent for a few moments, before turning on her son. Nitori stiffened his spine, standing straight as a board in her line of sight. Rin rolled over on his side, turning his back on her and catching the book in one hand as it fell from his face.

“You could help me, for once,” she said resentfully. “I hate seeing her cry like that.”

“You’re the one making her cry. It’s not my problem.”

“Do you hate me too, Rin?”

There was a moment of silence, and Rin watched as his ever-growing tiger cub slunk into the room from an adjacent hallway, padding her way towards his couch. Winnie, as he had named her, had free roam around the palace, which frightened Nitori to no end despite her gentle demeanor. He sensed Nitori wince from behind as she approached.

“I don’t hate you, Mom,” he said finally. “It’s just a shitty situation, and you’re making it all about you, as always.”

His mother frowned, and from his quiet spot in the doorway, Makoto cringed, seeing the hurt in her eyes. She turned on her heel and walked briskly towards the inner courtyards, before stopping for one last word.

“It isn’t all about me, and it’s not about you or your sister, either. It’s about the thousands of people who live in our country, Rin. That’s what it means to be a ruler. Your father understood that, and I understand that, and if you won’t understand that, then you will never be able to fill his shoes.”

She exited without another glance at her son. His neutral expression had twisted into narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, and he sat up on his couch in one fluid motion, before flinging his book across the room, sending it sailing past Nitori’s ear and crashing into the marble legs of a corner table. Winnie whined and recoiled. Nitori flinched and yelped, cowering at the feet of the sofa.

“Ready to come out of hiding yet, Makoto?” Rin scowled at Makoto in the doorway. Makoto did not dignify the prince’s temper with anything other than a disappointed frown, and stepped into the room, casting a quick glance at the disheveled book in the corner before resting a firm glare on Rin.

“You scared Winnie and Nitori-kun,” Makoto said sternly. “You could have seriously hurt Nitori-kun with that book. You should apologize.”

For Winnie’s part, it seemed that she had already forgotten Rin’s tiny fit of rage, as she had settled down at Rin’s side and begun cleaning her paws, her long, spiny tongue darting in and out between her furry toes. Nitori held up his hands in surrender and shook his head.

“N-No, Tachibana-san, it’s okay! I shouldn’t have been in the way of His Highness’s book! I’m the one who should be sorry! Unless he meant to hit me with it, in which case, I am sorry I did not step into his line of fire. N-Not to imply that Prince Rin has poor aim, of course—”

“Gah, shut up! It’s fine!” Rin snapped, not looking either of them in the eyes.

And Makoto knew that was, regrettably, as close to an apology as Nitori would get, at least for now. Rin rose from his couch and shoved one hand in the pocket of his billowy pants and gestured for Winnie to follow him with his other. With a stretch and a yawn, she padded after Rin as he headed for the back staircase. When Nitori took a step in Rin’s direction, Makoto grabbed him by the wrist and shook his head: _Not now._ The two of them watched as Rin and Winnie disappeared down the hall at the bottom of the staircase, no doubt headed for the terrace, and—if Makoto knew anything about him after all these years—down to the beach.

When he was gone, Makoto heaved a sigh and collapsed into an armchair, rubbing his forehead. Nitori fidgeted, lost in his master’s absence. Makoto offered him a gentle smile, and gestured for him to sit down too.

“That wasn’t much of an apology, was it, Nitori-kun?”

Nitori, who was not used to speaking his mind, said nothing.

“He will come around,” Makoto said. “And then things will be quiet for a few days, and it’ll all happen again.”

Nitori sat down next to him, folding his hands in his lap and occasionally darting a glance towards the terrace, as if he were expecting Rin to return at any moment.

“Has His Highness gone to the sea again?” he asked.

“Haha, I would put money on it! He always goes to the beach when he needs to be alone with his thoughts. I think he finds it comforting.” Makoto’s smile faded and he looked away from Nitori, at a painting on the wall of Rin, Gou, and their parents, when they were younger and their father the king was alive. They were grinning from ear to ear, with Gou held in her daddy’s arms and Rin clinging to his pant leg. It was the rare human picture of royalty, without the usual stiff dignity of throne room portraiture. “Nitori-kun, I know you don’t know anything different because everything exploded around the time you started working here, but it wasn’t always like this. To you, Gou must seem rather, um… erratic. And unhappy.”

Nitori bit his lip. “Well, a little bit,” he admitted, under his breath. 

Makoto nodded, indicating that Nitori should speak freely around him, that he wouldn’t be angry nor would he tattle. “Princess Gou is very gentle and free-spirited… The people love her and trip over themselves to please her when she’s out and about. And she’s very humble, but likes the attention too, because it’s so genuine… So she becomes a bit overwhelmed when she leaves the palace, but in a good way. I mean, you were living outside the palace walls before you were hired as Rin’s servant, so you must have encountered her at least once, right, if you grew up here?”

“Mm,” Nitori said with a nod. “I had to study a lot, because I wasn’t naturally good at school, so I wasn’t out very often… but I did meet her once, a few years ago. You’re right. She was smiling and laughing, and she saw some cakes that she wanted at a bakery… so she stopped, and paid the baker three times his asking price for them. It probably made his whole week. I know it would have made mine. She smiled and said ‘hello’ as I bowed when she passed.”

“That’s the real Gou.”

“Then is there a real His Highness too?”

That was a tougher question for Makoto to answer, and he leaned back, staring at the parlor’s ornate ceilings, painted with flowers and geometric shapes, lined with gold and precious stones; anyone could lose themselves in its beauty.

He often wondered if he had ever known the real Rin, if anyone had. He remembered the thirteen-year-old boy with the sweet snaggletoothed grin who loved to swim, just like Makoto’s best friend, Haru, but unlike Haru, he was a chatterbox, and a romantic, at that. When Makoto started living in the palace Rin would keep him awake through the wee hours of the night talking about love, and the sea, and how fun it was to swim races with Sousuke, and how he wondered if someday he would meet someone who could take his breath away. But Rin had hardened as the years passed, building a shell around him that Makoto could see through but not pierce, and even Sousuke, who had known Rin since childhood, found it hard to bridge the distance Rin had created.

Maybe that Rin _was_ the real Rin, but Makoto was inclined to believe that the truth lie somewhere in between.

“You know, Nitori-kun, I’m not really sure… But what we see here and now is as real as anything else, right? So we’ll have to meet it head on.”

* * *

“Haaaruuuu-chaaaan,” whined Nagisa. “It’s so hot, and I’m so thirsty. Hey, how much longer until we get there?”

Haruka’s eyes remained fixed on the sandy horizon. “You asked me that five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, and you told me you didn’t know, so I hoped maybe you knew by now.” Nagisa dug his foot into the sand and kicked up a bunch of grains, watching as they spread in the gusts of wind and rejoined their kin at his feet. “Are we lost?”

“No.” Haruka’s voice was firm, but there were naught but sand dunes in every direction, and the summer sun burned hotter with every step, and their camels were growing sluggish, and he realized that perhaps reassuring himself they were not lost did not make it true. They had been riding for nine days since their last stop in a seedy oasis town, home to the black market and the perfect place for a renegade prince and his minder to relax and replenish while undercover. But Haruka sniffed the air, and he could detect the faint aroma of salt: the sea. “The compass says we’re going in the right direction. It can’t be that much farther now.”

“I hope it won’t be too hard to find Mako-chan.” Nagisa flopped on to the camel’s neck. “We’ve only got about three days’ worth of food and water left for us and the camels. What if we die out here, Haru-chan? What if Mako-chan rides out and finds our bones scattered across the sand? What if the Alyabani soldiers keep them and wear them as war relics?”

“Five days, if you cut down on how much you eat.” Haruka could not bring himself to entertain Nagisa’s ridiculous fantasy any further than that. “You can always turn around and go home. I won’t be angry.”

Nagisa frowned and tugged the reins around his camel’s neck, stopping him dead. Haruka stopped, too, when the sounds of grainy clops halted from behind him.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Haruka’s expression was hard to read from behind his scarf.

“I want you to do what you want to do.”

He was aware that he had chosen to do something irresponsible, reckless, and even stupid, and he had not once intended to drag anyone to hell with him. It was his burden to bear, and no one else’s.

“I already told you what I wanted to do,” Nagisa said solemnly, his usual cheeky attitude replaced with humbling loyalty. “That hasn’t changed! I won’t leave you alone.”

_Unless you really want me to,_ Nagisa added to himself, but even then, it was his duty to ensure Haru’s safety.

Haruka turned again towards the horizon, and squeezed his camel’s sides with his feet, getting the animal to move forward once again. “Then let’s keep moving,” he said, without a look back.


End file.
